


Bare-knuckled

by Cahaya (Tarlaith)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Fighting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlaith/pseuds/Cahaya
Summary: Goodnight and Billy let off some steam. By beating each other up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ... I totally forgot I had this shot lying around completely beta-ed and all (thank you, Random Interloper ^^) until this prompt reminded me of it:  
>  "Whatever verse you want to use. Goody and Billy fight each other, full on fist fight/brawl, blood and bruises, it's over something stupid and they both know it. In the heat of it they end up crashing together in a fit of passion, aggressively making out, touching each other, and getting off however you want them to."  
> (On the [Mag7 kink meme](https://mag7-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/1188.html?thread=102820#cmt102820))
> 
> It's not exactly a fill, but I'm putting it out here anyway.

Seven bullets. Just _seven_ bullets on a training dummy were all it took for Goodnight Robicheaux, the _Angel of Death_ , to quake in his boots. To shove his rifle into Faraday's hands and run like a chicken. Or, well, walk. Very fast. Because he had tried running, but his demons were predators. Fleeing prey tickled their hunting instinct.

Now the beautiful landscape surrounding the miner's settlement turned into a battlefield right before his eyes. He could hear blood rushing in his ears and a boom of canons in the distance that didn't exist. Smoke curled skywards from the spattered remains of blown-up corpses. No need to wait for Bogue to rain down hell upon them, they managed just fine on their own.

Goodnight stomped past the first two ditches and turned into the shadows between a townhouse and a shed. Already reaching for his flask, he didn't notice that he had company.

“He'll be cold as a wagon tire come morning.”

Goodnight yelped, hands halfway down to his guns when he recognized Billy, leaning against the shed. “Gods, don't _do_ that!”

“Why not?” Billy asked, calmly twirling his favorite knife. From the outside, it looked just like the other five on his belt, but Goodnight knew that it was the newest, and therefore much sharper. “He irritates me.”

“No, I mean...,” Goodnight took a deep breath. He was shaking. “Fuck.”

“... now you've lost me.” Billy pushed off from the wall. His jacket was missing, as were his hat and the hairpin. The black vest was unbuttoned, revealing a wrinkled shirt.

Goodnight frowned. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be... teaching?”

Billy's eyes narrowed. “No talent.”

“You or the students?” Goodnight asked. He really couldn't help himself. Coming here had been a mistake. If he didn't owe Chisholm his life; Rose Creek wouldn't be his problem, and he wouldn't have to quietly stand by while a _greenhorn_ , like Faraday, called him out on things he didn't know a _lick_ about. His fingers twitched. He wanted to punch the guy.

Something dangerous flickered in Billy's eyes and Goodnight could almost see the aimless rage focusing on him. His body shifted subtly, tension flowing to all the right muscles. A tiger ready to pounce. “Come with me.”

Baring his teeth at Billy, Goodnight followed.

 

-

 

They got their horses, not bothering with saddles, and rode out of Rose Creek like greased lightning. Hot wind whipped into their faces and burned their throats. The speed felt good, but it did not cool the boiling in Goodnight's gut. If at all possible, he felt even more incensed.

When they reached a few trees down by the riverbank, Billy reigned in his horse and dismounted. Goodnight mirrored him, watching their mares trot off to a grass patch. He knew they wouldn't stray far; both had been properly trained by Goodnight himself. Since bounty-hunting was an unsteady income at best, he had learned the merit of possessing other skills a long time ago. Before Billy had joined him, he had made his money by breaking horses. While it was initially a clash of wills, the connection had to be there, that kind of sixth sense needed to earn a wild animal's obedience and trust.

Working with horses was a bit like working with Billy, actually.

“Did you hit anything?”

Goodnight turned, facing the mockery with clenched fists. “I can hit sand.”

“Your rifle coughs like an old hag.” Billy placed one of his knives in Goodnight's hands. It was one of the longer ones, heavier than it looked, the hilt rough on his skin.

Billy himself took another and dropped the rest of the belt into the grass, followed by his vest. The shirt went, too, but the gloves stayed on. Something he never would have dared if the countryside were not so open that they could spot anyone nearing at least three hours before they arrived. Bare-chested, he took up position. Goodnight took a moment to admire Billy's well-muscled body, a tint of olive smoothing his tanned skin into bronze perfection. He was almost hairless, his nipples slightly darker and soft. No ancient Greek marble statue or Renaissance painting could keep up with beauty like that.

Goodnight pointed the knife at him. “You feeling like a trip to the doc?”

“Giving you the advantage,” Billy smirked, facing him, shoulders relaxed, not even bothering to defend himself. “You need it.”

With an enraged roar, Goodnight lunged at him. Billy dodged, quicker than a man his age had any right to move, but Goodnight had anticipated this and shuffled out of Billy's reach to narrowly avoid a slash across his ribs. Not letting up, Billy threw a punch, hitting Goodnight's upper arm, forcing him off balance to stumble briefly.

“Told you,” Billy sneered, withdrawing out of reach.

 _Now, is that mercy – or pity?_ Goodnight turned the knife in his hand, so it was facing downward, and curled his lips. They fought like that for a while, more fists than knives, movements becoming less abrupt and more controlled with every punch, reality fading into the distance under the pull of muscles. The match's advantage flowed easily between them, shifting sides frequently, won and lost again. Until Goodnight had an idea. He feinted a stab to Billy's left shoulder, feeling his fist knocked to the side as he shifted his weight, almost dropping _onto_ Billy. He heard a gasp and felt something hot slice into his side, cutting skin just above his hipbone. Hissing, Goodnight grabbed Billy's wrist and twisted, pulling him off-balance, until he had no choice but to let go of the knife.

Goodnight sat down astride Billy's waist and laughed when the tiger snarled at him. “That advantage was a bad idea.”

Black eyes sparked with rage as Billy bucked his hips up and propelled Goodnight forward, off Billy and into the grass. Goodnight barely caught himself before falling onto his own blade. Billy was there immediately, on top of _him_ , pulling Goodnight's arm around and disarming him efficiently.

Then he leaned down to Goodnight's ear. “Bare-knuckled.”

Goodnight jerked his head to the side, right into Billy's face, and heard a very satisfying curse. The grip on his arm eased and he turned, throwing Billy onto the grass. The Korean curled up on himself, licking a bloody lip and smearing red all over his teeth. Sure in his victory, Goodnight moved towards him. The kick caught him square in the chest, and he went down like a felled tree.

Billy crawled over him, using his weight to pin down his opponent. He hooked his arm beneath Goodnight's chin and pushed down, choking him. Goodnight tried to struggle anyway, scratching on Billy's jaw and neck and ultimately, as a last resort, pulling his hair, but the air was running thin and eventually his muscles refused to move.

He laid down and the pressure eased up. Billy watched with narrowed eyes as Goodnight gulped for breath, not letting go. He looked beautifully fierce, black hair spilling down his elegant neck, red evening light making his sweaty skin glow.

Once his heartbeat had slowed down again, Goodnight grinned, spreading his arms. “To the victor belong the spoils.”

Billy scrutinized him, the corner of his mouth turned up. His free hand trailed down Goodnight's side, to the first cut and beyond it, leaving a red trail on pale skin. “Sure you're up for it, old man?”

Goodnight pressed his leg in between Billy's, smirking when he shifted out of reach. “You going soft, _cheri_?”

Still pulling the tiger's tail.

Billy growled and leaned down, mauling him, his kiss more teeth than tongue, tasting of copper. His hips ground down to meet Goodnight's, while his hands disposed of both their belts. Goodnight licked into Billy's mouth, drew back and bit his bottom lip. “Put some back into it, will ya?”

Snarling, Billy pulled them flush together, so Goodnight could feel all of his erection. “Nothing soft here.”

“Bet I could make it so. Real fast.”

Billy stared at him for a long moment before pulling back. Goodnight moaned in protest, and was met with a feral grin. “Shut your mouth and prove it.”

Only too eager to do just that, Goodnight dove for Billy's pants and pulled out his cock. It was full and warm in his hands, twitching slightly as Goodnight probed the foreskin. He trailed his thumb down the underside until he could feel the base and squeezed. Billy shuddered, pushing up into his grip, and bit his lips. “Still waiting.”

Goodnight licked his lips and leaned down to run his tongue over the still growing cock. It tasted of musk and sweat, and smelled earthy, carnal, _real_. He sucked the tip into his mouth, licking at it and wetting it with saliva before sliding down further, hand firmly around what he couldn't take. He bobbed; once, twice, more deliberate strokes, finding a rhythm. Fast, but not fast enough to satisfy.

Billy tried thrusting, but Goodnight splayed his free hand on his thigh, holding him down. He hummed reprovingly, and Billy's grip faltered in the middle of yanking Goodnight's hair. “Stop t-teasing. _Goody_.”

Hearing his name like that shot a bolt of lightning hot pleasure through his body. Goodnight's own cock pulsed painfully against the fabric of his pants. He bend down, sucking in earnest, and could feel Billy's muscle's tense beneath his hands, tightening with the anticipation of release. Like a spring drawn taut. Goodnight shifted his hands to Billy's ass, finally allowing him to thrust, and squeezed. Billy came with a yelp, curling around Goodnight, and holding on to him at the same time. Goodnight sucked him through it, relishing the familiar taste, throat fluttering with every swallow. Billy jerked and tried to squirm away, oversensitive, and when Goodnight wouldn't let him, he grabbed him by the hair. “Off.”

“Manners,” Goodnight said, mock warning in his tone, laughing at the unfriendly stream of Korean it got him. He liked the sound. “'sides, I just got you off. Don't you think it's my turn now? Although,” he poked Billy's limp dick, “this won't be of any use in the near future. Shame.”

“Go ask your horse,“ Billy spat, slapping Goodnight's hand away.

Goodnight laughed. “Wouldn't hurt you to say thanks once in a while, huh?“

“And spoil you?”

They stared at each other, eyes saying what lips were too reluctant to form. Then Billy leaned in, took Goodnight's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth. Almost gentle, if it weren't for the teeth.

The kiss continued as Billy's hands slid down Goodnight's throat and chest, briefly teasing his nipples and moving on to open his pants. It was all Goodnight needed, he moaned into Billy's mouth and shot his seed onto the dirt, overwhelmed by pleasure. Panting, he pressed his face into Billy's neck, dizzy and weak, riding the high.

It took a while for his head to be able to form a coherent thought again. Sometime in between, Billy's hands found their way into Goodnight's hair, playing with the short strands, scratching and soothing.

“Not to ruin the moment... but we should get back. The others will be wondering where we got off to.”

Billy's hands stilled. “Too late. Moment ruined.”

Goodnight pushed up, noticing that the sun had almost set around them. Milky drops were shining on the grass like morning dew. He tucked himself back in. “I'm hungry. Your...,” he cleared his throat, “– is not much of a supper.”

“Do you think with anything else than your stomach or your cock?” Billy groused, but got up.

Goodnight was working on a witty reply, when he saw Billy's face soften. “We left the saddles.”

Goodnight smiled and kissed him again, closed-mouthed and chaste. Together, they collected their belongings and called the horses; nightmares, memories and frustrations far away for now.


End file.
